Equilibrium
by owlcroft
Summary: Another version of McCormick's hospital stay after "If You Could See What I See".


A/N: Many thanks to L.M. for the help and the encouragement.

EQUILIBRIUM

by

Owlcroft

There was a brief murmur from the bed, barely audible over the humming of machines and quiet conversations out in the hall. Hardcastle quickly moved closer to the supine figure and leaned over.

"Take it easy," he said in a calm tone. "You're okay. Everything's under control. You hear me? Everything's gonna be fine."

One eye opened muzzily, McCormick turning his head ever so slightly to bring the judge into his field of vision, then he was out again.

Hardcastle sighed, then sat back down. It was a start. He went back to the crossword in the paper and took another firm hold on his patience. The past few days were over, the doctors were confident, and the machines were merely monitors at this point. The kid would be waking up soon and the explanation, and apology, could be made. Another sigh and the judge tried to concentrate on a seven-letter word for 'foolishly sentimental'.

Another murmur brought him upright again instantly. Mark had an eye open again and now his mouth moved just enough to say, "Whu--?"

"You're okay," Hardcastle repeated. Thinking 'Whu--' might be what or where or why, he addressed the main points as he saw them. Leaning carefully against the side of the hospital bed, he gently patted the arm without the IV. "You understanding this, kiddo? Everything's fine. You're in a hospital, but you're gonna be okay and I'm right here. Got that?"

"Mmm," replied McCormick drowsily. "Fine," he managed to add before his eye closed again.

"Fine," reiterated Hardcastle in an undertone. "Yeah, right. Fine." He returned to his chair, checking his watch. The nurse would be coming to send him home in another few minutes, so he folded up the newspaper crossword, tucking it under the lamp on the bedside stand, then reached for the briefcase Millie had brought him that afternoon with sandwiches and coffee for his lunch. "If you can call it fine that I sent you someplace where you thought you'd be killed and then nearly didn't find you in time. Sure thing, kiddo. That's just peachy keen."

ooooo

"You know," said the judge with studied nonchalance, "I don't remember ever seeing a more tempting mug of broth." He paused and sniffed the air near the tray with Mark's lunch. "M-m-m. Smells good, too. Chicken, right?"

"Oh, knock it off, Hardcase," McCormick growled. He toyed with a spoon, then eyed it as a possible missile, but put it back on the tray with a great show of reluctance. "When am I gonna be able to eat _real _food," he complained.

The judge folded his arms across his chest and assumed a stern expression. "When the guys in charge say so, okay? The nurse explained about the liquid diet, remember? Or were you still kinda dopey this morning?"

Mark cocked his head and thought for a moment. "Y'know, that sounds wrong. You shoulda said something like 'The nurse explained about it, but you were your usual dopey self this morning'." He looked at the older man with suspicion. "Are you being nice to me?"

"_Nice_? Me? Why would I be _nice _to you? I'm just trying to get you to eat your . . . well, okay, _drink _your lunch." Hardcastle sniffed and settled himself on the edge of the bed. "_Nice _to you, for Pete's sake."

McCormick grinned at him and stirred his broth gently. "I just thought you were being kinda . . . I dunno, _subdued_. Quiet, y'know? I mean," he abandoned the broth and took a sip of his tea instead, made a face, and set it back down, "you haven't yelled at me yet for being so stupid."

The judge stared at him, brows lowered. "Stupid? About what?"

"Stupid for going into that poolhouse without checking first." Mark looked at him with a trace of surprise, then pushed aside the tea and the broth and reached for his juice. "Come on, Judge. Catch up with me, here. We knew Falcon and Price might try something on us. And I went along with their plan without even looking around for you. I shoulda figured it might be a trap and checked first, but no-o-o. I didn't even sneak around the place first, looking in the windows. Oh, no. I just pranced on in. What a jerk," he finished disgustedly.

"I don't believe this," muttered Hardcastle. He turned to face McCormick squarely. "_I _made you go along with me." He jerked at thumb at his own chest. "_I _dragged you over there when you believed you might get killed. It's _my _fault, and you're blaming _yourself_?"

Mark raised his eyebrows in surprise. "No, of course not. I'm blaming the bad guys," he replied mildly. "It was dumb of me not to suspect something, but they're the ones who shot me. It's not my _fault_, and," there was a significant pause, "it's certainly not _yours_, either."

The judge sat in a ruminative silence for a while. "But," he said hesitantly, "if I'd believed you--"

"Judge, would you believe me if I said the 'Vette needed a new Winchell gasket?" McCormick finished his juice, and looked at the broth with distaste.

"Well, yeah," was the answer. "Does it?"

"Don't know," Mark sighed and pulled the broth toward him with an air of resignation. "I just made it up. But my point is that you were out of your field. Believing in that Other World, supernatural kinda stuff is my area. You're the honcho in judicial procedure, I'm the boss in breaking and entering. See? A division of labor kind of thing."

"And you're in charge of buying into the E.S.P. stuff, huh? Predestination, second sight." Hardcastle tugged gently at his lower lip. "But if I'd listened to you and Millie, then you --"

"Then I wouldn't recognize you," finished McCormick. "You just stick to being yourself and let me do my part of the deal, okay?"

The judge sighed deeply, then shook his head. "Look, I get what you're saying here, but you gotta know how guilty I'm feeling. I mean, I hafta sit here and watch you play with chicken broth, for cryin' out loud, because you were gutshot. I can't just shake that off, ya know."

Mark bravely swallowed a sip of broth. "I know. I'd probably feel the same way. But _I'm _smart enough to know it's all part of the job and we gotta roll with the punches." Nearly hiding his sly smile with the mug of broth, he took another sip.

"Did they put something in that stuff?" growled Hardcastle. "'Cause you're sounding even goofier than usual."

"That's better," McCormick put the half-empty mug on the tray and pushed it to the side. Grinning at the older man, he reached under his pillow and withdrew a completed crossword puzzle. "I'm also smart enough to finish this for you."

"I _wondered_ where that got off to." The judge inspected the filled-in grid and grunted. "'Maudlin', huh?"

Mark grinned at him. "Yeah, I'm not surprised you didn't get that one. It's not exactly something you're familiar with."

_finis_


End file.
